Long Shadows (Amos Decker, #7)(99)

“There are far worse things in life than that.”

White was about to launch a retort but said, “I guess you’re right about that.”

An hour and a half later, Fellows walked out of the spa, her skin glowing, her fingernails and toenails painted aquamarine, and her hair shiny.

“I wonder how much all of that cost,” said White.

Decker opened his car door. “Who cares? Let’s go swing for the fences.”





Chapter 74



THE FLASH OF THEIR CREDS made Fellows’s large eyes widen even more.

“You were the one who left a message last night. Look, why are you harassing me? Talk to my accountants. They’re handling everything. I just spend the money, I have no idea where it comes from. And I know nothing about taxes!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said White. “We’re investigating a series of murders.”

Fellows almost fell against her car. “Murders? Why the hell do you want to talk to me about murders?”

“Maybe we can go someplace very private and talk it through?” suggested Decker. “Like your home?”

They followed her back to her house, driving through the open gate after her.

“Wow,” said White as they pulled up in front of the three-story mansion set right on the water. “So this is how the other half lives.”

“It’s not half,” replied Decker. “It’s more like a handful.”

They were led inside by Fellows and passed a woman in a maid’s uniform. “Coffee, Jane, by the pool,” Fellows said to her.

“Yes ma’am.”

Decker looked around and noted a large shelf full of photos. He walked over and ran his gaze along them. “Your father?” he said, indicating one large photo of a group of people.

She crossed the room and joined him. “Yes. This actually is his home and all of his things are still out.” She gazed at her father’s picture. “He looked every bit the politician, didn’t he?”

“Were looks deceiving?” asked Decker.

“Did you ever watch the film The Candidate, with Robert Redford?”

“Yes.”

“Well, God bless him, that was my father. He was a delightful man. Loved to campaign, loved glad-handing people, loved the limelight, but was clueless about what the job entailed and didn’t want to put in the work. He never managed to write and pass a single piece of legislation in all his years on Capitol Hill. I’m not telling tales out of school, it was common knowledge.”

“And yet they reelected him over and over,” said Decker.

“Seems to be the norm now, doesn’t it? Okay, let’s get to it, shall we?”

They followed Fellows out to the rear lanai, where an infinity pool was situated along with luxurious plantings, furnishings, and sculptures. Just beyond was an enormous dock, where a boat large enough to qualify as a yacht was tethered.

“So, you have tax problems?” said White, looking around as they sat down at a table.

“Everyone in my income bracket has tax problems. As I said, my accountants are handling that.”

“And your husband?”

“Divorced. That’s why I have tax problems. My father inherited a lot of money. He had great financial advisors who turned that inheritance into a lot more money. He set up trust funds for me starting when I was a little girl. I was a millionaire many times over by the time I was a toddler. My ex-husband did his best to make me poor. But because of my prenup he’s poor, and I’m just working through some issues. I’ll still be rich when I die. Now, why are you here?”

Decker gave a brief description of the case before getting to the night in Miami in 1981. He did not mention Kanak Roe.

“Were you there with your father?” asked Decker.

She said sharply, “Where are you trying to go with all this? My father has Alzheimer’s.”

“We know. And where we’re going with this is, if you were there with your father, do you have any recollection of anything unusual that happened the night of the speech?”

“Okay, yes, I was there. My father was originally from New York, but we moved to Florida when I was little. My parents liked the weather, and the taxes were a lot lower than New York’s. We lived in West Palm at the time. I traveled with my father to Miami. I wanted to meet the president. I was only fifteen.”

“So, anything unusual?”

“Unusual how?”

“Anything out of the ordinary.”

“Not that I can think of. The president gave his speech, then my father followed him with his remarks. There was the photo op and shaking the hands of all the big donors. I got to meet Reagan. He was quite charming. And looked quite robust, considering he’d almost been killed not that long before. Then the president left. No one could leave before him—that’s standard procedure, you know.”

“And then what?”

“And then I went back to the hotel with one of my father’s aides. Then I went to sleep.”

“And your father?”

“I’m sure he came along later. He had some more people to glad-hand.”

“But you didn’t see him that night?”

The maid brought the coffees out and then departed.